


nor can I resist you (the passionate justice reverb)

by templemarker



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-23
Updated: 2015-06-23
Packaged: 2018-04-05 18:54:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4191165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/templemarker/pseuds/templemarker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Perhaps his mean little act in taunting and following Lucy was truly to a great purpose, to serve the resetting of the world and the renewal of Narnia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	nor can I resist you (the passionate justice reverb)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [redsnake05](https://archiveofourown.org/users/redsnake05/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Just, but never dispassionate](https://archiveofourown.org/works/82227) by [redsnake05](https://archiveofourown.org/users/redsnake05/pseuds/redsnake05). 



_I cannot let you burn me up, nor can I resist you. No mere human can stand in a fire and not be consumed._

She is never truly gone. In Narnia, time is fleet-footed but memories are long. There are days when Edmund-as-King is called to adjudicate a dispute or mete out a punishment when he looks into a Narnian's eyes and finds cold recognition there. It chills him too, this memory of winter that is never far from his thoughts. Neither is She. A spectre over his rule, one he works tirelessly to drive away into the warm nights of Narnia's new spring. He doesn't begrudge those who watch, assessing, waiting for these new young Men and Women to fail. Neither can he blame him: since the beginning of it all (or so the legends are told) Men and Women have come from...somewhere, and made to rule. Yet neither the Archenlands or Calormen, nor the Men across the Great Eastern Sea are fit, it seems, from what he has read in the archives, and what he has heard from Narnians. It is as the Lion chooses. 

It is a burden, to rule like this, knowing that though he would fight to the last, Edmund is a King because the rules mean he must be, along with his brother and sisters. He almost takes comfort in that--perhaps his mean little act in taunting and following Lucy was truly to a great purpose, to serve the resetting of the world and the renewal of Narnia. He whispers to Aslan in his chambers at night, his fears and prayers, and most especially when She comes to visit his dreams. 

_There are things that happen and leave no discernible trace, are not spoken or written of, though it would be very wrong to say that subsequent events go on indifferently, all the same, as though such things had never been._

When he was a child, before he was a King, he was desperately envious of Peter. Everything he did was to catch Peter's attention, to have Peter turn his eyes even in exasperation. Peter seemed larger than life, not only a very good boy but even a young leader amongst his friends. He was first to be called to play on the pitch, last to tumble in home from sport or study group or volunteering. 

Edmund knew, then, that he could never be like Peter. There was already some voice in his head whispering that he would never be good enough, that he would always stand in Peter's shadow. So it felt better, meanly better, to draw Peter's mind away from all the perfect things he was doing. To bring him to Edmund, even when he did so gamely. 

Now he is King, and even as Peter is High King above them Edmund is terribly grateful that he doesn't carry the weight of that: the ultimate responsibility to Narnia, to Aslan. He no longer feels envious. He feels dutiful, particularly to bear his share of the work. He does so without a single complaint--even Susan and Lucy are wont to complain sometimes, and Peter, with enough wine, will admit to being frustrated with this or that matter. Not Edmund. He works days and evenings, stands by Peter's side and holds his shield when necessary. Now, when Peter turns his attention to Edmund, it is to praise or thank or pull him close into a brotherly hug, and Edmund feels humbled by every touch. 

_How true it was that one needed to be seen by others to be sure of one's own existence._

He remembers Her voice most clearly. There is always a film covering the memory of his time with Her, and the sugary bitters of the sweets She fed him. Edmund thinks maybe his mind has tried to pack the memories away, to let him move forward, but it may just have been Her magic. Perhaps it was Aslan, in his kindness. 

However the memories came to be that way, it means he is never really able to put together a coherent recollection of that time. He doesn't recall her face, not clearly, and Narnia has wiped any trace of her visage from its borders. He doesn't have a grasp of the timeline of events, only a clear recollection of the hurt and betrayal on the faces of his siblings on seeing his betrayal. 

He remembers Her voice, though, loud and shrill and all-encompassing. He can feel her voice in his body at times. She is there, whispering in his ear when he is working, tempting him into making decisions that might cause more turmoil rather that serve Narnia's justice. Her voice is loud in his dreams, waking him in the night with its noise. Edmund calls on Aslan, thinking of the light on the broken Stone Table to drive Her from his thoughts. He doesn't know where She has gone; something in him doesn't believe She was truly vanquished. 

There are days when he knows he is alive because he has survived Her and all the things She said. 

_And when I go away from here, this will be the mid-point, to which everything ran, before, and from which everything will run. But now, my love, we are here, we are now, and those other times are running elsewhere._

They are at dinner, and Peter is recounting one of the battles against the Giants at Ettinsmoor. Edmund was there, had raised his sword alongside his brother, but he smiled at the funny bits and chimed in to correct the story a few times. The guests of the Court think it is terribly gallant and brave, and Edmund plays the part of the straight man to some of the jokes from their Royal General, as he as done before whenever the story is told. 

He wears the mask of a merry man to these events; it would not do for the younger King to be dour. After all, he might marry one of these courtesans one day, for the good of the kingdom. 

Edmund doesn't mind playing the part; it is necessary, in order to devote as much of his time and attention to Narnia's justice system and the reestablishing of lawfulness. Not only did Narnia lapse into local authority under the dictatorship of Winter, there are laws in the books which are historical in fashion and bogus in application. Edmund works every day with a team of archivists, sheriffs, and solicitors to bring back Narnia's freedoms in justice. So much else of what consumes his time are events he acts through in order to serve his purpose. 

She is farthest from his thoughts then, when he is deep into the books, splattered with ink from his feather pen, mugs of cold tea littered about his study. 

Edmund can see the future, Narnia's future, and his place in it. This is his home, his land; he has shed his honor, blood, and tears for Narnia to make him her own. He is her King and takes every step surefooted knowing she possesses him beyond any other claim.

**Author's Note:**

> Title and quotes taken from A.S. Byatt's _Posession._


End file.
